She pointed at me. “You.” She spat on the ground, then wiped her mouth. “Watch your back. They’ve all heard of your prowess with the sword. But you know how men are. They won’t believe it until they see it.” She got to her feet and eyed Kuro. “I’ll check on patrol,” she said, before striding off.
“One of us needs to work,” said Kuro, stretching out by the fire. He took off his fogging glasses and cleaned them on his tunic. Without the thick frames, his eyes appeared unusually light, though it was hard to tell in the dark. “We’ll be passing the Zoigen Marsh tomorrow. Will you come with me to see my mother? She’s been dying to meet you. You’re something of a living legend around these parts.” His eyes gleamed strangely. “Makes me jealous.”
I scratched the back of my head, uneasy. “I don’t know,” I said. “It’s a detour, and I’m pressed for time.”
“After all I’ve done for you,” he said, wheedling, “you won’t agree to pay a short visit to my mother?”
“Your mother lives here?” I asked. It was out of the way, but only by a day, and Lei could not move far regardless.
He shrugged. “She doesn’t like people. This is as rural as it gets.”
I appraised him silently. Kuro had an open, honest sort of face, the kind that made people invite him into their homes and beds, despite his huge stature and many war scars. His was a face that could lead a rebellion.
“All right,” I said. “But only for the day.”
He pumped his fist in the air like a little kid. “Yes!” he exclaimed. To me, he said, “We won’t tarry.”
“And I have a list of medicines I want acquired,” I added.
He groaned loudly, but I could tell his distress was performative. “You’re draining me dry, Phoenix-Slayer.”
I thought of Lei’s jewels in my satchel—I’d held on to them in case we needed the cash for supplies. “I can contribute.”
He gave me a long look. “I don’t want your gold,” he said. In a quieter voice: “I want your friendship, Hai Meilin.”
I returned to the tentto find the healer packing up. “He’s stable,” she said, fatigue lining her face. “He would have died from the poison—if not for Kuro. Did he drink something intended for you?”
“Kuro?” I repeated, bewildered.Did Kuro save him?
She shot me a look as if I were being obtuse. “Tan Kuro is a poison master,” she said simply, before leaving.
Alone, I sank onto the floor beside Lei. His face was still pale, but now I could see the slow rise and fall of his chest. Lying beside him, I watched that subtle motion, trying to assure myself it was real. Gently, I placed my hand over his chest, and then—I felt it. His heartbeat.
Comforted, I withdrew my hand just as he caught it. “Stay,” he whispered, his voice barely a rasp.
“I’m right here,” I answered. Still, he did not release my hand. We stayed like that all night—Lei asleep and I only pretending. For I did not dare fall unconscious.
Now that we were once again surrounded by people, I feared the dragon’s reach. I did not know how he had manipulated Zibei, but I dreaded the possibility that he could compel and corrupt others. Perhaps he had used other spirits as his proxies. Or perhaps he had not needed to do anything at all. Perhaps, from the start, it had always been me.
Checking to ensure my irons were secure, I kept watch over Lei’ssleeping body, both relieved and exhausted to see the sun rising over the jagged horizon. It was a new day, and I was still alive.
With all the rain asof late, the Zoigen Marsh reminded me of an overflowing cup, brimming with puddles that never ended. Under the spring sunlight, the shallow waters appeared like polished mirrors, reflecting back the bright blue sky and the waterfowl traversing it.
Kuro kept up a steady stream of chatter as we sloshed our way through the wetlands. We saw a few wild bulls grazing on the grasses and gave them a wide berth, but other than animals I could see no sign of civilization for miles. By midday, tired and hungry, I asked Kuro if we were lost.
“Lost? Me? Never,” he replied, though he did double-check his compass. I rested my hands on my hips as I waited for him to navigate us. But instead of carrying on, he set his rucksack on a protruding stone. “I know what your problem is,” he said, grinning. He fished out a barbecued pork bun from his belongings and foisted it high in the air like a trophy. “You’re hungry, aren’t you? Jinya’s always a brute when she’s hungry.”
Without responding, I snatched the bun from him.
The bun was as soft and fluffy as a pillow, and the savory inside—full of barbecued pork, green onions, and eastern spices—was somehow still warm and steaming. I had to give the Leyuan rebels credit where it was due—they ate much better than the Anlai army.
“Good, isn’t it?” said Kuro. “We have a spirit wielder on our cooking team—keeps the food hot no matter how long it’s been stored.”
I raised a brow. “So you permit spirit wielders to join the Black Scarves?”
“Permit?” he guffawed. “Werecruitspirit wielders, my friend. Have you seen the damage they can do? One powerful spirit wielder is worth a hundred swordsmen, in my humble opinion.”
I mulled this over. “Are there many in Leyuan?” I asked. “I mean, a year ago I knew of not a single one in all the Three Kingdoms.”
